When I can't think of a good post title, I'll just call it "Bob."

Pregnancy is just one amazing discovery after another of bizarre and wonderful things one's body is capable of doing.

For as long as I can remember, I have had oily skin. I suffered from wretched acne in high school, which calmed down as I grew up but never completely went away. Then, I became pregnant, and BAM! I looked like a 13-year old again. Gah.

Then came the second trimester. My skin cleared up beautifully, I had never had such a clear complexion. I was loving it!

Now, in the final weeks, my face has dried up and is cracking and peeling like the desert floor. If I squint when I look in the mirror, I can see tumbleweeds traveling across my face, and I hear the theme from Rawhide in my head. Also, my back is now covered in pimples. What on earth??!! Pimples on my BACK?

It seems to me that my body just can't decide which parts of it want to be oily and which parts want to be dry. Although I suppose if I'm going to have zits, I would much rather have them on my back where no one can see them.

Thankfully, I find myself amused by my body's antics. I only have a couple more weeks of weirdness, and then my body should return to its previous state. Hopefully!

In other news, my friend is coming over today to decorate our nursery. She is a professional interior decorator, and her baby gift to us is for her to come make a beautiful room for our little baby! I'm so excited. I'm going to go take a "before" picture, and when she's done I'll take an "after" picture and show the miracles she has wrought.

I hope everyone has a lovely day!

Of Doctors and Test Results

I find it amazing how two doctors can look at the same test results and come up with two different ideas.

Awhile back I posted about the possibility of me having gestational diabetes. Well, the results came back and Doctor #1 said that I was free and clear, but just to be safe, I should "watch my carbs."

I went back today for my next appointment, and this time I saw Doctor #2 (who will most likely be on call in the event Doctor #1 is unable to attend my child's birth.) She reviewed the same test results, and had a little freak-out on me!! Apparantly, the way the 3-hour glucose works is they take your blood three times, and if you have "elevated levels" two of the three times, then you are diabetic. I had elevated levels on the first draw, but the second and third were fine. HOWEVER, the second draw I was only 3 points below "elevated," and I apparantly had sugar in the urine sample I left just before going in to the exam room. So Doctor #1 doesn't seem terribly worried, but Doctor #2 wants me to completely eliminate sugar from my diet.

My question is this: where does the truth lie? Is Doctor #1 right, or is Doctor #2? Or is it somewhere in the middle? After my appointment with Doctor #1 when she said I was not diabetic, I went home relieved, and drank sodas to my little heart's content. Now I'm being told to radically change my diet, based on the same test results!! Why so much confusion? What's a preggo to do?

Argh.

I'm off to drink a diet coke. Blech.

Seclusion

(photo from Ads of the World.)

I think I understand now why women in days of yore went into seclusion when they found out they were pregnant.

It was so they would not have to answer stupid questions, and endure the ridiculous comments of the blissfully ignorant.

I say "blissfully ignorant" because to the one who is ignorant, it is blissful to be so. However, to the person upon which the blissfully ignorant chooses to bestow his or her blissful ignorance, it is not so blissful.

I really hope you understand that last sentence because I can't think of any other way to explain it.

These blissfully ignorant souls really have no idea how much damage they are inflicting upon the mother-to-be. Bless their little hearts, they don't mean to be insulting and/or aggravating. They just can't help it because they haven't been there yet. Or they HAVE been there, but it's been such a long time, that they have forgotten.

Here is an example of a recent (ACTUAL) conversation with someone of the blissfully-ignorant persuasion. This is a person I had never previously met, but found myself working with in a volunteer effort at my church.

Blissfully Ignorant: "Wow, you look REALLY pregnant! How pregnant are you?"

Guinevere Meadow: "I'm 31 weeks pregnant."

B.I. "What does that mean?"

G.M. (thinking to herself, it means I've been pregnant for 31 weeks, you twit.) "It means I have 9 weeks to go because 40 weeks is considered full-term."

B.I. "So when are you due?"

G.M. (Duhhh...if I have 9 weeks to go, then it must be sometime near the end of November. I guess B.I. just really can't do math.) November 29th.

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (No, I'm not sure, as it goes. You see, my doctor is a complete quack and doesn't know how to calculate due dates. I've had three sonograms and about 15 bajillion office visits, and STILL she can't tell when the baby's coming.) Yes, I'm sure.

B.I. "Wow, it looks like you're having twins. Are you?"

G.M. (I don't think I'll EVER get tired of that question.) No, there's just one baby in there!

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (Again, my doctor's a total quack. Three sonograms and 15 bajillion office visits have not yet confirmed how many people are currently residing in my uterus.) Yes, I'm sure. By the way, that's really a rude question.

G.M. leaves the room so as not to perpetuate any further sarcasm and to prevent B.I. from further embarassment.

End scene.

This is a conversation I have had with multiple people, most of which are people who do not know me well. (These are the same people who feel obligated to come up and rub my tummy. Why? I just don't get it. When did it become socially acceptable to put your hands on a person that you don't REALLY know all that well? Sigh.) I came home that day disgruntled with people in general, and decided I wanted to go somewhere where there were no people.

So I went to a scrapbooking workshop with some people I didn't know, and went to watch my husband's softball game afterward, among lots of people, some of whom I knew and some of whom I didn't. Thankfully, everyone I encountered that evening was very respectful of boundaries. The women I met at the scrapbooking workshop were all women who had given birth, so they knew better than to ask me if I was having twins. I was able to tell them about the conversation with B.I. and laugh about it with them.

It was balm to my soul.

I guess I don't totally want to be away from people. I just want to be away from the blissfully ignorant.

Yipes!! 9 weeks to go!!!!

I am now 31 weeks pregnant. That means I have 9 weeks to go. A little over two months, unless the baby comes early.

10 weeks. There's something scary about that, and exciting at the same time. On the one hand, I feel like I've been pregnant forever and I can't WAIT to get this child out of my body and hold him in my arms. On the other hand, 9 weeks??!!! In 9 short weeks I'll be holding a baby in my arms?? How is that possible? I often still feel like a kid myself!

My best friend Damselfly recently gave birth to her own little flybaby, and I remember her telling me what I have just written here when SHE had 10 weeks to go. Now she's had her baby for almost a month!! Amazing. Time is a strange thing.

As each day passes, the reality of what is about to happen hits me harder and harder. On the weekend, DH put our crib together. My baby shower invitations were sent out by friends Damselfly and Roo. Friends at my church are starting up a pool to determine when I'll actually give birth. As my belly gets bigger, walking becomes more of a challenge. As I walk to my classes on my college campus, I see these little college kids zip by me like they're running from a fire or something. (Was there really a time I could walk that quickly??) I also see them scrutinizing my belly and scowling, as if they've never seen a pregnant woman before, or that because I'm pregnant I don't belong on a college campus. These kids have so much to learn. Being pregnant has made me feel so much older and wiser than my academic counterparts. Poor kids. They'll find out soon enough!

I've also started growing a backbone! Yay! Among my circle of friends (the same circle that's starting the pool and choosing a name of the week for this child, ) is a well-meaning gentleman who likes to pat my stomach every time he sees me. Only his version of "patting" is more like grabbing my stomach and shaking it like a maraca. Normally, I don't mind when my friends pat my tummy, as long as they do it gently. This guy just has no clue. So finally, I just came out and said "Please don't do that. I don't like it when people touch my stomach." I wanted to cheer for myself!! Prior to this, I had just kept quiet about it, although it grated at me every time.

I will be thrilled when this little one arrives in 9 weeks. It will be nice to have my hormones somewhat under control (I know that'll take awhile,) but much more importantly because I'll be able to see, hold, and talk to my baby! I can't wait for him to arrive.

Pickles and Ice Cream

I want to know who the first person was to suggest that pregnant women often crave pickles and ice cream. Early in my pregnancy when I would talk to friends, the first question they always asked me was, "Have you craved anything weird yet, like pickles and ice cream?" For some reason, every single person came up with that particular combination. What's more, they did it independently of each other!! No one suggested pickles and key lime pie, or ice cream with salad dressing. Every single person thought that the ideal pregnancy food was pickles and ice cream. Why??

I wonder, was there some famous movie where a pregnant woman came up with pickles and ice cream? Is there something intrinsic about our culture in which the combination of pickles and ice cream becomes a logical cuisine choice for the pregnant woman? In Italy, for example, would they put marinara sauce over tiramasu? Do pregnant French woman desire to drizzle onion soup over their chocolate mousse? Or is there something universal about pickles and ice cream?

This is a mystery that I intend to get to the bottom of. If anyone has any clues, please let me know.




p.s. The weirdest thing I have craved was ice cream and potato chips. For the briefest, and I mean briefest of moments, I contemplated crushing the potato chips and using them as a topping for the ice cream, but then my common sense took over. So I ate a handful of potato chips, and then had a dish of ice cream.

It was delicious.

Unfortunatley, I was out of pickles.



***Note: out of curiosity, I googled the phrase "pickles and ice cream" and here is what I came up with. Enjoy.

1. Pickles and Ice Cream: Maternity Clothes

2.Baby Shower Invitation

3.Pickles and Ice Cream: a Father's Guide to Pregnancy

Dreams and Wishes

Dreams are nothing more than wishes
And a wish is just a dream
You wish to come true....

That's from a song I like off the "You've Got Mail" soundtrack. I thought I would share some of my dreams and wishes with you in these wee hours of the morning, when my bonnie wee son is making his presence so very plainly known to me, keeping me from a sound sleep and preventing any kind of possible "dreams." (For some reason, this kid doesn't want me lying down right now. Sitting up is the only way to go! After I write this, I'm going to try to fall asleep in hubby's recliner. We'll see how that goes.)

On nights when I have slept soundly, I have had some interesting dreams indeed. Once, I dreamt that I was giving birth, and as the doctor held the baby up for me to see for the first time, the baby had my husband's face! His 33-year old face, with glasses and goatee. It was this infant's body with an adult's head. Then he grinned at me with the same grin my husband has and waved at me with one finger, the way my husband does. It was kind of cute, but weird at the same time.

Another time I had a dream that I was conversing intelligently with my infant son. There we were, changing his diaper, having a perfectly grown-up conversation about something serious and complicated, like politics and recycling.

I've had a number of baby dreams, and in only one of them did the baby behave like a normal baby. He was always talking, or walking, or doing something far more advanced than he should have been doing. Is this wishful thinking on my part to have a child who is highly skilled, or am I in denial that I will be parenting a child? Am I going to expect him to grow up too fast? Or am I just worrying too much about a silly dream?

Speaking of wishful thinking, as I lay in bed unable to sleep on nights such as these, I find myself imagining what life will be like with a child. I often feel that I am still a child myself, and I am overcome with this dreadful fear that I'm not ready. Other times, I am so excited and thrilled to be welcoming a child into the world. I find myself imagining my son at different ages. I see his first day of school, I see him playing catch with his daddy in the front yard, I see him learning to swim. Then he's an awkard teenager with pimples and greasy hair and is trying to get the cute girl across the street to go out with him, then he's the star football player at his high school. Before I know it, my unborn son is grown up and has a wife and child of his own, and I am a grandmother with lots of grandbabies running around the house at Christmastime. I love these little flights of fancy. My life as I know it is about to end, but a beautiful new season is about to begin. And as it is with the changing of seasons, we often mourn the passing of the wonderful time we have just had, but simultaneously welcome the incredible change that is about to take place.

Dreams and wishes. Wishes and dreams.

The "Birth Buffet"

With pregnancy comes a complicated mess of decisions that must be made. When faced with all the options and choices involved in every possible decision related to her baby, a woman often feels as though she is standing at the end of an endless buffet, filled with yummy, delectable things she wants to eat BUT she is limited to a single plate. This is not an "all you can eat" buffet, but rather, a "pay per pound" sort of thing. She has one shot to fill up her one plate with all the things she needs to begin life with her new baby. If she forgets something, or mistakes iceberg lettuce for romaine, then that's just too bad.

Among the plethora of decisions to be made concerns methods of birth. Will she have a natural birth, or will she have drugs? Will she be on her back with her feet up in the air, or will she be walking around and using all the nifty gadgets like birth balls and the birthing stool? Will she be attended by a doctor, a midwife, a doula, none of the above, all of the above? Will she give birth in the hospital, at a birthing center, or at home? How soon after giving birth will she try to breastfeed? WILL she try to breastfeed? Will the baby room with her, or will he/she be taken to the nursery at nighttime?

While I understand that advancements in medical technology have saved many a mother's and baby's life, I often think that our techno-society tends to just complicate things!! Back in the day, there were no choices such as the ones I mentioned above. The woman knew she was going into labor, and she had the baby. That's it. Easy. Simple. However, should I experience some medical problem during my birth/delivery, you bet I'll want all of those "techno-complications" !!

I guess the question is, where does one draw the line? At what point do we utilize the technology because we truly need it, as opposed to using it simply because it's there? This is something I have been grappling with. I have friends on either side of the debate, all of whom insist that their way is the best way. Well, I'm not them, and my baby isn't their baby. So what's a girl to do? No one else can make these decisions for her, because no one else is experiencing what she is experiencing. No one else knows her body the way she does.

(Then of course, there's the issue of medical insurance and its intrusions, I mean influences, on decision-making...but I shall save THAT discussion for another post!)

It can just all be overwhelming. Then, there are decisions about how to decorate the nursery, what brand of car seat to purchase, whether or not to buy the "travel system" or separate stroller and infant carrier, does the baby need long sleeved or short sleeved onesies, and how many in what sizes? Will the baby like all the things that have been purchased for him/her, or will he/she even be aware of them? Will the crib bedding that I so carefully selected and agonized over even matter to this little person? Just thinking about all these decisions makes my head spin.

Yet it is exciting, when one embarks upon this mission of decisions. Because with every choice I make, I influence the development of my little child in some way. Some are big ways, others are more subtle. It is a totally new experience, knowing that my decisions will profoundly affect another person's life for years to come.

Welcome to the Birth Buffet.

A rose by any other name...

We have decided to keep the name of our baby a secret until he is born. This has disturbed many people. Our reasons are multiple:

1. Ever since I became pregnant, people seem to think they have a right to all sorts of personal information, such as: the status of my bladder at all times; gee, I'm so big, don't I think I'm having twins ? (NO I'm not-- 'are you SURE???') ARGHHH! ; whether or not I have vomited today; how sore my feet must be because they're so swollen etc. etc. etc. ; THEREFORE I am choosing to keep this little interesting tidbit private just to get back at them. Ha.

2. Someone is bound to have a story about a horrible person with the name that we chose, which will cause me not to like the name anymore, and then it's back to the beginning starting all over again, vainly searching for a name that hasn't been "tainted" by any human being on the face of the earth. Ever.

3. I'm just obnoxious that way!

So, because of this, some friends of ours have decided to have a "name of the week" for the baby until he arrives. Here are the names so far:

Ivan Douglas
Zeke Douglas
Sebastian Douglas

(One of the group members is named "Douglas," and he said that it would make a nice middle name, so the consensus of the group was that the middle name would always be Douglas. lol!)

This poor child. When he is born, all of his aunts and uncles who gave him these names are probably still going to call him by the name they chose- Auntie Y will call him "Ivan," Auntie J will call him "Sebastian" and Auntie C will call him "Zeke." I have no idea what Doug will call him.
***as I type this, the maintenance team at our apartment complex are testing the fire alarm system...they have go to each apartment and open the front door to make sure every individual fire alarm can be heard....which means that there are something like 20 apartments in this building, and they have to test it in each one, which means I still get to hear it...I thought I was done when they came and checked mine! But no. Here they go again...I think I'm going deaf...I think Sebastian Douglas might be going deaf, too. Actually, no. He kicks me each time the blasted thing goes off. Clearly he doesn't like it. Can I pull the "pregnancy card" to get them to stop????******

Anyway. Rest assured that Bob and I chosen a lovely, meaningful name for our son. And when he is born, I will be happy to tell you what his name is!